


Irrasal Ma Nuvenin

by ObsidianMichi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Coitus, Eirwen Lavellan - Freeform, Eirwen fucks Dirthamen, Elven Gods, Evanuris, F/M, Language Kink, Nothing but smut, Post-Canon, Post-Trespasser, Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Lady in Blue and White, ish, just saying, she fucks him pretty hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianMichi/pseuds/ObsidianMichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Fingers swept away her hair, teasing her ear with swift, subtle touches. Gentle pressure from his arm around her waist, heat of his hips. Lips pressed to the back of her neck, slowly descending down the length of her spine. Mouth brushed to her hairline, tongue heating sensitives nerves.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dirthamen and Eirwen in Orlais, engaging in some rather risque activity while the nobles party nearby. (No set up, just the smut.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irrasal Ma Nuvenin

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS. This is a piece that goes with "The Lady in Blue and White" so, you know, SPOILERS. Something for you all to look forward to if you had any inkling of low key shipping this couple. Either way, let the sinning commence. Small SPOILERS.

Fingers swept away her hair, teasing her ear with swift, subtle touches. Gentle pressure from his arm around her waist, heat of his hips. Lips pressed to the back of her neck, slowly descending down the length of her spine. Mouth brushed to her hairline, tongue heating sensitives nerves.

Eirwen’s back arched, hips rolling, but Dirthamen kept her cinched tight.

She felt his smile pull against her neck, lips rising to touch her ear.

“Patience, Renan.”

Laughter continued just around the corner, the heat of a summer courtyard, nobles gaily swapping their tales. Gossiping in the sun. She could see the hems of silk petticoats, gray, silver, pearlescent pinks.

His teeth closed on her ear tip. Tongue flicked, just a brush across her skin. Fingertips trailing over her lips, drifting lightly as a butterfly’s wings stirring a pond.

“Mmm,” she moaned.

Invisible hands stroked her thighs, thumbs rotated on the sensitive skin just above her waist. She felt him slip underneath the layers surrounding her conscious mind, the thrill of his shadow warming her core. They rolled across her stomach, down between her legs. His hand clapped over her mouth and she felt the sudden forceful thrust of his magic.

“Ah!” Her muffled cry gasped into his palm. Tongue tasting salty sweat, her eyes squeezed shut. _Almost real. Almost as good._ Body arched as the second wave crashed through her, cheeks pressed to the side of his head. Loose black strands tickling her nose.  

He sucked skin into his mouth, hard.

She thrust against him, body buckling. Nerves on fire.

Dirthamen bit down.

Her body rolled. Arm wrapped around the back of his head, yanked her closer.

Magic slammed her again, lifted her half onto her toes.

Another gasp as her tongue stroked his palm.

“Dirthera ma, Renan.” His voice murmured in her ear. “Lasa ghilani, lasa mala da’dirthen.”

Grabbing his wrist, Eirwen pulled his hand closer. A gentle kiss pressed to the lip of his palm, tongue darting into the crevice. Teeth pressing to the meat, she bit down. Heard his breath catch, the rumbling groan.

“Ma lathin elgar’arla.”

Another wave crashed, another rolling thrum of pleasure.

She moaned. “Ir’isala in’ma.”

His tongue stroked the curve of her earlobe. “Iras?”

“Irassal.” Her fingers stroked his knuckles, the words came in a rush. “Dirthamen, irrasal ma nuvenin.”

He chuckled, the warm rumble. “You wish it to be a little longer then?”

“Oh,” she moaned as his mouth moved behind her ear, another crash shattering against her walls. Her eyes squeezed shut. “Hate you.”

Dirthamen stepped back, pulling her into the cool shadow of the pillar. “Ar tel’shem, Renan, virven ma sumeil la sumeil’din.”

She turned, let him smash her against stone wall. His mouth covered hers, tongue plunging them into a long, sensuous kiss. “Ne…” her teeth traced his lower lip, “nuvenin.”

He pulled away, so they were a breath apart. His hands on either side of her, no longer touching. His dark golden eyes hot, a playful smile tugging his mouth. “Ma nan, Renan.”

Her hand slid down his chest, noting the undone ties, the half-open jacket, the shirt slipped free of his pants. “Your revenge?”

He cocked his head. “Were you not the one who insisted we spend this day with work?”

Eirwen groaned. She leaned against the wall, grateful for the stone’s cool support. Cheeks flushed, she glanced toward the courtyard. “Monster.”

The same smile tilted up his right cheek, and he leaned in. “One must have either work or play, Renan.”

Tucking a few loose strands behind her ear, she let her gaze slide back to him. “I happen to enjoy both.”

His breath tickled. “All evidence states otherwise.”

 _So far away,_ her lips pressed together. Legs quivered. She flattened her hand on the wall, taking pleasure in the rough lines between smooth marble. The architecture of her people, the pride of the Dales. She sighed. “I suppose.”  

“You are running from me, sa’lathin.”

She tilted her head back, so her cheek rested against his. Her chin lifted. “Then,” she whispered into his ear. “What do you wish to see?”

His hand drifted down her thigh, letting the silk tease her skin, then back up to her hip.

Her lashes fluttered, tongue pressed to the roof of a dry mouth. _I’m developing a new love of dresses._ They were important to her cover when traveling in Orlais, but a newfound use had emerged. _Access,_ she thought as his fingers drifted inward, _far easier access._

“The self who appears in moments of relaxation,” he said. “Tell me of her.”

Head descending, she pushed back his collar and kissed his throat. His skin was warm in her mouth, soft under dry lips. Tongue passing languidly up the curve of his jugular, felt his blood pulsing. The quickened beat, heated by the stiff hard press against her groin. Her hand dropped to his pants. She planted a kiss on his jaw. “Lath sulevin,” she murmured mischievously, quoting the song Suledin from memory. “Lath aravel ena.”

He gripped her hips, yanked her to him. “Be certain in need,” his mouth moved in her hair, “the path shall emerge.”

“Mmm,” she agreed. The tie on his pants popped free as her teeth closed on his earlobe. “This is it.” Her tongue flicked on hot skin, her fingers sliding inside parted cloth to find his hard cock. Then, her mouth opened and she blew on a slick surface. “What I’m like.”

He shivered, and she felt another eager thrum.

“So fuck me,” she whispered, “like there’s no one else here.”

“Ma nuvenin, Renan.”

Dirthamen slid away from her, head dropping as his lips moved down her neck. Fast, peppered kisses, all tongue and teeth. Down to her clavicle. One hand rose to find her ear. Lips sucking, tongue licking, as he gently stroked up to the tip. At her gasp, he dropped the hand to her shoulder, slipping it right underneath the silver overwrap, pushing it off one shoulder. His other hand lifted up her skirt. His mouth lowered still over the bare skin of her breasts until he reached the bodice. Light fingertips followed, tracing across her skin, stopping at the crystal hanging between her breasts. He barely paused as his thumb and forefinger played with the white bauble, rolling it around on her skin. Magic let its light flicker, threateningly as her dress glittered pale white. On and off it went, fabric there and then not. A wet mouth closed on her nipple.

Eirwen gasped.

Fabric rustled, moist and moving with his lips. Then, his tongue stroked bare skin. Fabric whispering over flesh, between each quick lick, each slow suck. He rolled her nipple around his tongue, pulling her further forward. A soft nip brought another pleasurable spike.

Desperate fingers found his ear.

“This…” she panted, “this is patience?”

He was up again, rocking back to seize her mouth. Her arm went around his shoulders. Ghostly fingers pulled his cock free. He lifted her up, pressed her roughly to the wall. Her skirts were up her thighs, legs wrapped around his waist. He hissed. “Fenhedis!” She felt his hand finding his cock. Head lifted to her slick entrance, straining toward her cunt.

Then, he plunged into her.

Eirwen moaned, hips tilting as she rocked forward. “Oh!” His heat speared through as he thrust up. She rolled in time with him. Comforted by locked gazes, merging want and need. This time, he was devilishly slow. Pushing in and up, head scraping down her walls, filling her. “Dirtha--” Another faster thrust, harder. “Ohhh!”

His lips pressed against hers in a rough kiss as he thrust again. “Shhh, sa’lathin,” he murmured softly. She felt his smile against the corner of her mouth. “What shall we do if these shemlen catch us?”

“W-whatever,” she whispered breathlessly. Her arm clenched around his neck as he staggered back off the wall. She rolled around his cock, walls squeezing, encouraging. “Do not…” felt the rewarding kiss on her mouth, “end... this.”

Dirthamen’s muffled laugh echoed in her ears. Her eye squeezed shut as another sharp thrust drove deeper. Plunging, wet, each hard, sharp, took her faster, the maddening pace swallowing her. “Eirwen,” she heard him pant, vibrations sending shivers across her chest as he murmured her name against her neck, “lovely one.”

“Garas ma,” she gasped. “Dirthamen!” Her walls shuddered about his cock, clenched and squeezed. “Sathan, Dirthameeen!”

“If you wish,” he murmured.

His final thrust caught her.

Her back arched. Heat exploded inside her. Light burst behind her eyes, the hot, vibrant swirl of pleasure. A shriek escaped her, and she was awash in a sea of stars. Tired arms wrapped around her back as they sank to the cobblestones. “Ar…” she babbled softly against his slick neck, “ir’lath ma melana vunin.”

Warm fingers brushed back her hair, feverish lips on her temple. “Ma Renan,” he murmured, “I believe you’ve been pounded silly.”

“Mmm,” Eirwen nodded. “I’ll blame you.” Cuddling close, she let him cradle her in his lap. His arms wrapped round her. Cock pulsing faintly, still buried inside her. Felt the sticky warmth between both their legs. Resting her head on his shoulder, Eirwen toyed with the laces of his shirt. Fluttering lashes brushed across slick skin as she shifted. “And I ruined your pants.”

He kissed her forehead. “Hardly a worry.”

Her finger passed down the center of his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin. “We missed our opening.”

“Others will come,” Dirthamen replied. His hand rested on her head, fingertips toying with her ponytail.

“Your fault,” she whispered.

“I fully accept the blame.”

Her head lifted. “How many of the nobles saw us?”

His lazy laugh was somehow reassuring. “A fair few.”

Her mouth closed on his throat. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I failed to remain utterly contained. They shall have a erotic dreams for the next fortnight, perhaps be aroused to foolishness.”

Eirwen lifted her head, frowning. “Dirthamen.”

“Ah,” he added, “and some hot blooded couples found comfort in the courtyard.”

She glanced around the pillar, past the potted bushes, to where she could now hear what were unmistakably wild gasps and cries of passion. Golden masks discarded on the patio, skirts up around their heads. Some men paired to men, women with women. The unmistake opaled mask of the Marquis le Blanc glittering as he licked glittering champagne off the bared round breasts of Lady Chevilin in the fountain. Another man, one she didn’t recognize, knelt between them. His mouth fastened lovingly around the Marquis exposed cock.

Duchess Lesseps sat astride her husband out on the grass, riding him wildly. Spurring him on with quick smacks from her riding crop. There were other intertwined feet, exposed ankles visible. Discarded satin dresses and silk petticoats flung across the hedges. Deerskin pants hung off one tree branch, a green overcoat shucked beneath them.

 _Like they were all simultaneously struck with some kind of aphrodisiac. “_ Was it the entire party?”

“All except the servants.” His tone was carefully neutral. “I fear I am a terrible influence, lovely one.”

Eirwen raised an eyebrow, then she slumped against him with a groan. “You horrible monster.”

“I assure you,” his teeth nibbled her ear, “the worst they shall suffer is collective embarrassment. All that has happened is the claiming of their consensual desires.”

“Monster,” she repeated, but without much feeling. “You are terrible.”

“True,” he agreed. “However, we may now peruse the manse at our leisure if you wish.”

“Actually,” Eirwen began slowly, she met his dropping gaze with a sly smile. “I think I’m rather filthy.” Her hand dropped between her legs to thumb across her clit, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “A bath may be in order.”

Golden irises glittered. He lifted her chin, so his lips drifted across her mouth. “The Marquis’ or ours?”

“Irassal ma nuvenin, m’Dirthan.”

He grinned. “If that is your desire, lovely.” She let him tug her closer as he bent her head back, his mouth hovered almost ready to close on hers. “I shall.”

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up writing this one shot while working on "The Lady in Blue and White", so this entire thing is SPOILERS territory. I can never guarantee anything, and I am writing ahead of myself. However, given some setup, I can almost guarantee that this couple will happen at some point. So, take it as an exploratory AU within an AU. Or grab hold of it with two hands and don't let go.
> 
> I like Dirthamen. He's a smooth operator. Pretty much just walking sex, walking sex all the time. I really enjoy writing him and Eirwen together. They work together pretty well, all things told. Besides, a girl's gotta have fun sometimes with the god that can rip open her brain like a can of sardines.
> 
> That's half the fun.
> 
> He's the competition. Get yer game face on, Solas.
> 
> It's been awhile since I wrote smut, so I hope you enjoyed it. Maybe even got a little hot and bothered. All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. I'll probably have to raise Blue and White's rating to mature at some point, or even explicit. We'll see.
> 
> I mucked about with the elvish, mostly for stuff that sounds pleasing to make the dirty phrases. This is all mostly pulled from the Elven Language wiki.
> 
> Elven + Translations:
> 
>  _Renan_ \- Voice (This is Dirthamen's nickname or pet name for Eirwen, the full nickname/name is Renan Dirthhim aka In Your Voice Secrets Begin or In My Voice Secrets Begin)
> 
>  _Dirthera ma, Renan. Lasa ghilani, lasa mala da’dirthen_ \- Tell me, Renan. Grant me guidance, give me your little secrets. (I want to know what pleases you.)
> 
>  _Ma lathin elgar’arla_ \- My lovely spirit trap. (That one is a little spoilery, for their relationship. I combined lath (love) with in (dwell) to basically make "lovely", much in the same way hanin is glory.)
> 
>  _Ir’isala in’ma_ \- I'm very much in need of you within me
> 
>  _Iras_ \- Where?
> 
>  _Irassal_ \- Whereever
> 
>  _Irassal ma nuvenin_ \- whereever you wish
> 
>  _Ar tel’shem, Renan, virven ma sumeil la sumeil’din_ \- I'm not quick, this path leads you close and then not. (Basically, I'm going to take you to the edge of orgasm and not give it to you.)
> 
>  _Ne nuvenin_ \- your wish
> 
>  _Sa'lathin_ \- Lovely one
> 
>  _Sathan_ \- Please (This is FenxShiral's and it's convenient)
> 
>  _Ar ir'lath ma melana vunin_ \- I love you more each passing day
> 
>  _Ma nan_ \- My revenge
> 
>  _Irassal ma nuvenin, m’Dirthan_ \- Wherever you wish, my Secret Place


End file.
